


We were young enough to try , to build a better life

by MarauderChaos



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, But I’m not excusing what he did, F/F, F/M, Gryffindor/Slytherin Inter-House Relationships, Harry Potter & Ron Weasley Friendship, Head Boy Harry Potter, I’m not sorry, James Potter & Lily Evans Potter Live, James Potter Needs a Hug, M/M, Mentor Severus Snape, Powerful Harry, Quidditch, Quidditch Player Harry Potter, Regulus Black Deserves Better, Regulus Black Feels, Regulus Black Owns My Entire Heart, Remus Lupin & Lily Evans Potter Friendship, Sirius Black & Lily Evans Potter Friendship, Slytherin Harry Potter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-14 11:47:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29045595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarauderChaos/pseuds/MarauderChaos
Summary: One shots , surrounding a Slytherin Harry - if his parents had survived that night in godrics hollow.
Relationships: Daphne Greengrass/Harry Potter, Harry Potter & James Potter & Lily Evans Potter, Harry Potter & Ron Weasley, James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Marlene McKinnon/Dorcas Meadowes, Sirius Black & Remus Lupin & Peter Pettigrew & James Potter, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Kudos: 29





	1. We are the stars , we do not disappear (we are still there when the clouds drift near)

**Author's Note:**

> I WILL BE CONTINUING BOTH ‘We Plan, We get there, All hell breaks loose’ AND my Rarry fic IN THE NEAR FUTURE !! 
> 
> These will be the three fics that I am focusing on here at the moment. I have a Scorbus fanfiction in the works on Wattpad (typewriter221) but other than that I have no plans to update the others yet. 
> 
> This fic will contain a series of one-shots, because I don’t have the energy for a long one right now, so its splitting things up for me.

**  
  
**

Plot : The night they ~~died~~ survived

(James’ first thoughts.)

tw: minor swearing 

  
  


“My son, my _infant_ son-”

The rough gravel of his voice, grating with the remnants of a sob stuck in the back of his throat and James jerked a hand to rifle through his mess of locks once more. Repetitive, stringing the natural curls that softened beneath the its nest-like qualities between his fingers, each time a little more frantic, a little more grieved and . . trembling. 

The shock had settled in, clinging to the gasp that left his lips as they wobbled, skin creased with a loss; a loss for something that had not yet gone, but still his other hand opened and closed on only the air and the shine in his eyes remained steadily desperate. 

He would never forget the broken cot. 

“James,” Slowly his gaze fluttered up, meeting the glint of glass that framed steely blue eyes that refused to twinkle. He found himself latching on to that, as his hand dropped limp from his aching head and twisted his fingers into the fabric of his dust coated jeans. 

No twinkle. 

A small voice in his head wondered absently if it was all an illusion, if his eyes ever really did twinkle? Were they pinched out one by one with every passing death that fuelled the war?

“This is important,” 

Dumbledore’s aging voice firm and grounding and the sensation of floating that had not decreased since he awoke – awoke? Was he awake? Or trapped sullenly in a nightmare? – of being encased in a suffocating air and yet utterly senseless , coiled between the two , unsure whether to panic or to weep or to breathe, finally pulled his feet to the floor with a jolt. 

“I need you to tell me what happened.”

He sucked in a breath with great effort as it stuck relentlessly to the flesh of his lungs and choked up his throat. 

“I- We, we were getting them ready for bed .. bubbles, I was showing them bubbles,” It felt detached, his voice, scratched and shaken like a distant echo in his head, his cheeks aching to form the words. 

“He was there , he found us ..”

He struggled to pull the words out, hands curled in his lap jumping with the rapid bounce of his knee as a wrinkled hand pressed with surprising weight down, drawing his gaze back up to those aging orbs washed with a wrenching sympathy. His mouth was dry, he couldn’t quite remember looking down, his thoughts scattered like a garden of fallen autumn leaves crumbling with the wind. 

James took another breath, a lump prominent in his throat, jaw clenching and unclenching. 

“I told Lily to run, my wand .. I didn’t even pick it up, and then he- well he stunned me.”

He watched Dumbledore frown, a wave of confusion following. 

“Why would he do that?”

A soft murmur, an absent thought knitting silver eyebrows together but James found he didn’t care, he couldn’t care, not right now. 

“Lily,” He managed, scrubbing a hand down his face. “Where’s lily?”

It sounded dull even to his muffled ears, as though waiting for the inevitable dreaded words that would shutter his heart away, left to nothing but a single lost beat for his fallen wife, expecting the very worst. Something weary crossed Dumbledore’s face, and James could feel his chest constricting beneath his ribs, a rush of adrenaline swooping through his exhausted body. 

“She’s been taken to the infirmary, alive and supporting a heavy concussion.”

_She’s been taken to the infirmary_ , and that was all he could picture , her skin doused in a grey palour and features sunken to the likening of a corpse, limp and unreachable on the white stretches of bed, the only colour left of her once cherished life to be found in the damp plains of hair knotted and seeping of its fiery colour. 

“James ! Albus !”

The fireplace flared into life and a scattering of blackened soot followed in the wake of a haggard Remus Lupin, chest heaving as he burst from the flames. 

He didn’t feel himself rising, he hardly recognised the room in its too bright glow that sent a spiking ache through his eyelid, tried to ignore the comfort of the fabric he was sat on – _his fault his fault , didn’t pick up the damn wand ! –_ but he caught a glimpse through the haze that lingered in his eyes of his friends white face, stretched with lines scars and tainted handsome features pinched with worry, and they way his amber orbs crumpled with relief, their hands finding their way around each others bodies, curling into the scent, the clothes, the pulsing beating heart to remind that they were alive. 

And for the first time since Lord Voldemort attacked him home, James felt something other than the crushing waves that roared in his ears, other than endless drowning in icy fixtures, crawling pain up his throat in half caught sobs behind gritted teeth. He felt almost safe. 

“Prongs , prongsy , you’re alive,” Remus muttered, their bodies coiled so tightly together they rocked back and forth like the calm of the tide despite the way their hands dug viciously into the others tarnished clothes, lips half pressed into his hair, words brushing down his neck. He pressed his face into the crook Remus’ neck, gasping words that held no meaning as his mouth garbled to say what he meant, eyelashes catching the flow of tears before they began, breathing in the musty scent of firewood and chocolate. 

“Where’s Lily?? Harry?? Peter?”

Though his lips were clamped together, a moan throttled at his airways and tore out, muffled by the heavy coat Remus had adorned, still damp with the essence of rain, and hands gripped him tighter. 

“Albus?” 

Remus tried to keep his voice steady, even as his lips shook and their entangled limbs began to stumble. 

“Lily is being treated in the hospital wing. She is _alive._ ” Half breathless, his knees shook, keeping tight grip on his oldest friend as they sunk as one back into the sofa amidst Dumbledore’s office. 

“Young Harry is by some great miracle,” Albus rubbed a hand over his eyes, dislodging his half moon spectacles and looking older than Remus had ever seen him “also alive.”

Salty tears dripped down his cheeks, his limbs seemed to wilt beneath the indescribable weight of relief that poured across them and a noise captured between a sob and a laugh produced from the back of his throat and Remus gave James a gentle shake , to make him hear the words. 

“They’re alive Jamesy , god you’re all alive.”

He trembled beneath Remus’s scarred hands, the silent sobs lurching through his body sapping into soft sniffs, and slowly he drew himself out of the hold, eyes half squinting behind his dark framed glasses and face blotchy. His eyes found Dumbledore once more, lips parting silently and closing again, and opening once more. 

“Alive.” He says limply , and he wants nothing more than to crumble and sob and never wake up, this was all too much. 

“Peter, “ amber eyes catch his “Peter , he must .. he must be hurt - you should , you should find him” 

He rasps out and everything starts to hurt , as though the events had only just taken place and he was being rennervated once more. 

“Was Peter with you?”

If there was a tinge of hurt behind his urgent words, James refused to acknowledged it as Remus leaned forwards, winding his fingers into Jame’s sleeve. 

“No , no , we made him secret keeper. Voldemort must have found him , you need to find him Moony .. I don’t know what _he_ did to force it out of him.” 

They were staring at him, his half grief addled brain slow on the uptake and Dumbledore rose to his feet. 

“I assure you we will find Mr Pettigrew.” There was something hard leaking into the older man’s voice, something that made James weary with the weight of suspicion , and he would have bristled at the suggestion one of his best friends , _Peter_ , could’ve sold them away. He would’ve , but he was too tired. He just wanted his family. 

A sudden lurching sensation and his eyes widened with new vigour as dread befell him , because his family was not here , the one person he expected to see , was not here. 

“Sirius ,” he croaked, finding his footing without remembering that he stood , but just that Remus hovered behind him with a warm hand against his back and James would’ve gladly sunk into his embrace. “I need- I need ..”

He wasn’t sure what he needed , as his knees trembled to keep his body straight , and two pairs of hands rushed to keep him standing as the world span. Why wouldn’t they let him see his wife? His son? 

He hoped they weren’t lying. He couldn’t take it if they were lying. 

“You need the Hospital Wing.” Remus said firmly, drawing a steady hand around his waist even if the glow of his amber eyes were still suspiciously bright and glazed with a stunned relief. 

“My apologies ,” Dumbledore rested a hand on his shoulder, “I revived him , I needed to know .. rest James , everyone is safe now.” 

A soft squeeze and he was an eleven year old boy again , shuffling uncomfortably behind the large looming desk awaiting punishment for a prank. 

He had been so close , so close to never watching his son grow. 

* * *

“I found Peter ! He’s with Dumbledore and the Aurors, they said James and Lily were-“ 

“He’s asleep.” 

Low voices met James’s ears as he drifted in and out of consciousness, too alert to slumber, too exhausted to stay truly awake but every noise made him freeze, made him jump, fired adrenaline up through his body. 

“He’s alive ,” Sirius , voice bleeding with relief and a scraping noise as he slumped into a chair. “Oh merlin thank fuck , I thought .. I thought ..”

“I know.” Remus said quietly, but his voice was hard and curt and if he had the strength James would’ve frowned. He knew that tone , he was mad , hurt , and James didn’t want that. They were safe , they were supposed to be together , safe. 

Maybe it was Peter . Was he okay ? 

“When were you going to tell me?” 

“Tell you what..” Sirius trailed off , his voice softening and if he wanted too, James could picture his handsome features smoothing into gentle sympathy. 

“Remus I-“

“You didn’t trust me, did you?” A roll of guilt ran down James spine shifting unconsciously , unsure whether the pain came with it , or was simply the aftermath of being discarded like a fly across the hall. There was a pause , and then Sirius spoke tiredly.

“It wasn’t like that , I swear.” 

“Sirius I’m not stupid , you didn’t trust me , and you think I don’t know why?” His voice rose sharply and faltered and Remus swallowed carefully around the lump in his throat. 

“I’m a werewolf , and you always told me I wasn’t a monster. But you don’t trust me.” 

A deep breath, James could hear Sirius rising , preparing himself to defend them with gusto. 

“It wasn’t like that Moony-“ 

“Don’t ,” he snapped “Not now.”

Sirius paused again, and he would’ve winced for his friend if he was not so tired. Merlin, the sheets were so soft , maybe he could persuade Lily to swap their bedding. If she ever forgave him.

“We do trust you remus , we _do_ , we chose to swap because I’m the easier target. It’s what everyone would expect , not Peter.” 

“But you didn’t tell me.” Remus ground out , a cold temper swirling with hurt. 

“No , no because-“ Sirius started , searching fruitlessly for the right words. 

“Because you don’t trust me!” 

“Damnit Remus ! They trusted me and look where it got them !!” Cracking like a whip, his words slicing through the air , breathing heavily. 

“ None of us trusted each other, you think I’m blind ?! This isn’t about you and me , and bloody _insecurities_ , they almost died because we all refused to trust each other !!” 

A heavy silence followed his ringing proclamation, and the sound of two bodies collapsing into chairs. 

“I’m sorry Rem, truly.” His voice dropping to a sincere murmur , their voices thick with enveloping sadness. 

“Me too Siri , me too” On the verge , a soft rustle and James didn’t need to open his eyes to know they were crying , their arms curling around each other in the shared horror they had almost lost everything that night. They could’ve even lost each other. 

“I love you, you know that right ?” Sirius’s voice almost choking off, ladened with the weight of the night and Remus let out a watery laugh. 

“I love too pads , I’m pissed , but I’ll always love you.”

“Good, cause I was not looking forwards to sleeping on the sofa.” 

“I haven’t ruled that out yet.” 

“Yet ?! ” 

Remus gave a half amused hum in reponse, and their voices dropped a little but it made no difference.

“Only married couples can use that threat.” 

“You just made that up.” 

“Did not, why? Don’t you want to marry me lupin?”

“Are you proposing to me?”

“Depends, do you want me to sleep on the sofa?”

“What?”

“What?” 

“Only you would propose beside your best friend's deathbed.”

“ _Almost_ deathbed.” Sirius corrected quickly “besides he’s not awake.” 

“How’d you know I wasn’t talking about Lily?” Remus quipped back. 

“Because our bond runs deeper than best friends , moonykins.” 

“No , no , just because we’re in Hogwarts does not mean we get more weird nicknames. And please, what bond??”

“Don’t tell me now you don’t like _Moony_ , Moony. Lils and I , we are like two peas in a pod.” 

“Yeah, on opposite sides of the garden.” 

“I’m her favourite person I’ll have you know.” 

“Really don’t think you are.” Remus snorted. 

“I definitely am.”

“Love , don’t worry , you’re someone’s favourite person.”

“Yes I know you love me Rem-“

“Oh I was talking about Kreacher.” 

“That’s it I’m divorcing you , James get ready for an affair.”

James would be lying if he didn’t feel flattered, a smile tugging at his lips even with his face half pressed into the pillow. 

“I didn’t accept your proposal, Pads”

“Didn’t, wouldn’t, haven’t, shouldn’t, can’t-“

“What?” 

“These are all the words you’d use in an excuse not to marry me.”

“I would not !” 

“Wouldn’t actually. Close enough.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“So , marry me?”

“.. if we get divorced I’m taking the dog.”

“.. I’m the dog.”

“Aw don’t talk about yourself like that .” Remus teased. 

“I want a yes in writ- Poppy!”

The scraping of chaos echoed and their somewhat childish banter diffused, and James found himself a little dampened. 

“Black, Lupin , back again.” There was something fond in her voice and it stirred something warm in his chest. Poppy Pomfrey’s loyalties lay not to the light or to the dark, but to the students of Hogwarts and them alone. 

“We’re getting married.” Sirius grinned, James could hear the curve of his lips in his voice just as he could always count on the hint of a bark in his laugh. 

“I’m not sure a hospital brings out the right atmosphere for you.” She drawled , with a hum of a chuckle. 

“Now , Black, you’re Harry Potters godfather? Correct?”

Something shifted in the air, the dark mood that followed with a suffocating pull and lapped at James’s heals everywhere he went, returned with full force, and the teasing died. 

“Yes,” Sirius said, his voice huskier, serious. “Yes I am.”

“Right now he’s in my office. I did not wish to risk keeping him out here. He is free of harm, but there is a scar on his head that I believe is permanent.” 

“Okay,” there’s a hint of confusion in his voice. “Why are you telling me and not James?”

“I will be informing James and Lily when they are fully rested. Right now however, the boy is distressed.”

“Oh , oh okay, can I- can I hold him them?”

“You’ve done so before I presume?”

“We both have.” Remus interjected softly, sensing the hackles of indignation arise momentarily and James would have smiled had their voices not been slowly getting quieter as he drifted closer to sleep. 

“This way then ..” 

He heard no more of their conversation, finally exhausted to the point of no return as his brain enclosed itself off from the torture of hyper-vigilance, and his fingers curled half heatedly into the sheets hoping to feel her warm body next to his. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. You were bright , you were new , you shone.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry , during first year , through the eyes of his classmates

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I plan once in awhile to write a longer chapter , brushing over his Hogwarts years. 
> 
> There will be one-shots dedicated to events , or relationship etc , but I think it would be nice to see a sort of glossed overview from time to time. Let me know what you think ! 
> 
> Apologies , there isn’t really an order to these , they will most likely fluctuate between Harry pre Hogwarts and Harry in Hogwarts , but I really want to focus on him with both his family and friends in this portrayal and the similarities and differences compared to cannon.

_1991_

_September 1st_

  
He first sees Harry Potter in the warm glow of the candlelight encaptured in the stone walls of Hogwarts. It’s not the scar on his forehead or the bright shine of his eyes that caught Theo’s attention, or indeed the catacomb of murmurs that were sent along his way. What he saw first was a charm hanging from a leather loop around his wrist. Shaped in the form of antlers, a small glass sculpture etched beautifully, glazed with a misty golden from the flames that flickered on the wall. 

It swung gently and Theo felt something unnecessarily catch in his throat, as if expecting the small charm to fall and shatter, tiny pieces left glinting on the floor. But undoubtedly the bracelet was protected by spells though Theo was sure he would never want to find out. There was something about it that drew him in. It made him uneasy.

He doesn’t quite manage to catch a glimpse of the semi-famous face to place alongside the name, though the nest of dark locks upon his head seemed to remain in the corner of his gaze even as his attention was diverted to the spitfire of insults traded between familiar voices. Weasley and Malfoy were already tiresome in their endeavour to show themselves better - ‘ red hair and a hand me down robe Weasley , don’t make me laugh ‘ - and Theo could wait another lifetime before watching another propel themself to the darkest depths of ambition to pitch for superiority. They reminded him of his father; so self absorbed in being better, his ambitions rolling on to his son and then it was _they_ had to be better. Theo had to be better. 

So he knew, he knew achingly that they would try too hard and they would fall and that thought alone drew a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach as he turned away.

That’s when he met those pools of light, a sacred glow rippling exasperatedly behind a thin circular frame of glasses. Something rolled down his spine, this pull of magic and just the very moment where their eyes caught and they shared a second of the indescribable, he knew he’d dipped his toe into the pond of a fate far greater than he could ever hope to belong.

So maybe that’s why his fingers are crossed as he lowers himself on to the bench beside Malfoy, hidden in the clasps of his robes, and trying not to show that he wished , _he hoped_ , and his father had taught him never to hope for nothing good will come of it, that Harry Potter would end up in his house. 

Or maybe he was just trying to forget what the hat had said. Or ignore his unconscious shiver as the frayed edges were rested upon his head, the natural instinct to be repulsed. He almost wished it had left a bitter taste in his mouth, to be half aware he was disgusted by a hat, but it didn’t. He was always torn between being what he was taught to be and his fathers expectations of him. Almost one and the same but never quite enough. 

“Slytherin!” 

There was a pause, monumental and callous and hard, freezing sharply in the air to let the word ring out into silence. And then, slowly it was melted with a thrum of clapping, started by the temporary Professor Potter and it was almost as if there hadn’t been one in the first place. Malfoy sat up a little straighter. 

His name he did not immediately give, though he needn’t too, but formalities were always upheld in their branch of the school and Theo could already catch an afrontment plastered along Parkinson’s face. He chose instead to glance at the food that had appeared in platters up the middle with an arching artful eye, waiting for the rest to take their food.

Then the boy looked up, and Theo matched a face to a painting that stretched with varying colours across his mind and his bright emerald eyes stirred something unwitting with the spill of watercolours. Intrigue. 

Conversations were slow to start, but he wondered if this was the normality, for nobody seemed in a rush, everything was careful and precise down to the crockery they picked out and the drawl of their voices. He found it comfortable and crushing all at once, the silence was kind, it settled warmly on his shoulders and let his eyes stay averted to his plate with little scrutiny. But there was a weighted tension that Theo hated, as though a veil had been classed down over their postured bodies and they couldn’t move without disturbing it. Almost an impossibility. 

He made the mistake of looking up. 

Harry Potter was going to make him choke someday, he just knew it. 

He wore a soft smile, something odd and different on his face. It wasn't challenging or smirking or cold and calculating, it was gentle and wavering only in amusement as his eyes scaled up and down the table absently. There was something _genuine_ about his smile, and that wasn't normal, not in Slytherin. Not in public. 

It was unnerving actually, he couldn’t help but search for the root of it, for something to hold, to inspect, to understand. But he couldn’t and he wondered if it were a mask, but even then it didn’t feel right surrounded by a thousand facades pasted over their skin. Yet it was almost refreshing, refreshing and unconcerned irate all at once but Theo found himself hoping - he needed to stop hoping ! - they wouldn’t teach him how to mask it. 

  
  
  
  


Slytherin house was exactly how he imagined it. Though his father didn’t approve of imagination, unless it were realistic. But despite that, Theo found his spirits uplifted from the inner turmoil decorating his mind as he stared around the deep green shade of the common room, trickling students in. 

Harry Potter - for that’s all he could refer to him as, not Potter, they were not acquainted, not Harry for they were not friends. Just Harry Potter and he wondered how long it would be before he grew tired of hearing that name, even just inside his own head - looked approving. 

Malfoy caught that, his pointed face narrowing to decipher any and all expression and his lips opened to move, but he was interrupted before he could begin. Theo decided to ignore the wild satisfaction that rose up watching his fellow heir’s mouth snap shut. 

“Welcome to Slytherin House. I am Prefect Rosier, this is Prefect Farley.”

The fifth year scoured their faces darkly, the deep tenor of his voice seemed to lower the light within the room as his lips dipped in an unwelcoming frown. Farley appeared behind them silently, Theo only catching sight of her by accident, almost grinned as the group around him flinched in surprise. 

“Thank you Felix,” Her gaze was sharp but her voice was softened with amusement. She seemed more aware of her partners demeaning stare as her eyes flickered momentarily in an eyeroll and he was sure if he hadn’t been looking he wouldn’t have seen it. 

“You should first be aware that we are here as Prefects, not to abide by your every whim of pandering. We are here to learn just the same.” 

Sapphire. Her eyes were sapphire. 

“That being said, for the first two weeks we shall be here every morning at eight sharp to guide you to breakfast. We will not wait if you are late.” 

Theo watched the flicker of a smile pass over the older slytherins as they strode around their small group clustered in the middle. He got the impression this wasn’t strictly true, but nor was he about to test the theory. 

“We do not expect to be bothered by bland fights or petty squabbling. You must learn to come to an agreement between yourselves and under no circumstances to you show your feud outside of these walls.”

Prefect Rosier took over, and Theo wondered if they just liked seeing heads swivel in one direction to the other like baby birds waiting to be fed. 

“However, if there are issues you are unable to solve, or you are having significant trouble with each other, another student or a teacher, we wish to be informed. The number one rule within this house, we do not tolerate bullying.”

He found it somewhat ironic that Prefect Rosier was attending to this speech when he was more intimidating than most of the Gryffindors, whom he’d only been able to glimpse amidst the feast. He had no wishes to speak to any of them. 

“If you are hurt or ill you are to seek medical attention immediately. You will face prejudice outside the common room, and if you find yourself in a situation where you are not allowed to find treatment, you do so anyway. It is your right.”

There was a bite to Rosier’s voice, almost growling, as if the whole idea personally offended him. 

“You may approach us if you need help, or if you find treatment of yourself has been unjust or biased. What you cannot do is take a situation out of context to make yourself the victim. Accusations will be looked into thoroughly, but if you are found lying there will be far worse consequences.” 

Farley took over once more, her time taking a significantly lighter note than her fellow Prefect who continued his scowl. 

“The password for the common room will change monthly, you are not to give this out to anyone. This is for your own safety as well as everyone else. Quidditch Tryouts will take place in two weeks, first years are not normally permitted a spot on the team but you can attend and participate if you wish. Furthermore we expect to see you all at every meal, you are too attend all lessons unless you have a good reason not too and your curfew is nine. This means you are to be in the common room by that time, lights out at nine thirty no later.”

As she finished the lull of noise that had overcome the common room picked up once more, not loud as boisterous but gentle and soothing in strange sort of way. There was harmony within these walls and Theo liked that, it reminded him of a melody. 

They were escorted forwards to the side where a short, narrow spiral staircase lead upwards. They separated at the top, the girls taken in one direction, the boys in the other, and Theo was almost hesitant to know what the dorm would be like. 

As it turned out, there were two dorms for the first year boys, their names etched in silver on a plaque on the door. 

“These will be your rooms for the next seven years, you’d do well to get along. There will be separate passwords for both, you may disclose this information to each other if you wish, but this must be a unanimous decision. Otherwise you will not be allowed entry.” 

Rosier flicked his wrist, wand aloft, and the doors unlocked. The name plate glowed, and Theo flinched, the crest on his robes seemed to hiss in response. Apparent by the shuffles, their eyes cast downwards, he wasn’t the only to notice. 

Harry Potter seemed amused. It was plastered lightly on his face, something Rosier seemed to dislike if the warning glare was anything to go by. But he remained either stupidly oblivious or purposely ignorant. Theo suspected it was the latter. 

_Nott, Potter, Zabini._

_Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle._

The Italian did not voice his protests, if he had any, but then for all the time Theo had known Blaise, he had always taken the phrase ‘if you’ve got nothing nice to say then don’t say anything,’ rather literally, but often you could tell if he was simply uninterested or unbothered to when he was silently pissed. 

Blaise was never quick to anger, he had this slow build like a kettle boiling, but it was there, in his eyes, if you knew where to look. A flash of something, a crease between his eyebrows, more notably he stiffened to the likeness of a stone wall and one wrong word he would crash , the bricks would come falling and someone would be on the receiving end of his icy tongue. 

There was none of that however, Blaise simply rose an eyebrow and gave a curt nod, stepping inside. Theo followed him in silently, they’d been friends for many years, as long as Blaise had been with Malfoy. Sometimes Blaise wondered how it would have been if they had met first, but then, it probably would have made no difference, Malfoy struggled to share. 

The Malfoy’s had always been good to him though, and though he couldn’t help but refer to Draco as Malfoy for he never got the impression their acquaintance had progressed to anything more than comfortable companionship at best, the blonde often insisted on calling him Theodore. 

There were three beds with equal spacing within the room, they had each been given a third of the room, including a small desk likely if the common room was too crowded. There was a separate door at the opposite end to the bathroom. There were unexpectedly two windows, ones that allowed a glaze of pooling light from the black lake in its reflection of sunlight through the ripples, completely safe as it was, and rather beautiful to look in the daytime, they were soon informed by Rosier that the windows would remain locked at all times. 

The floor was a dark wood but the four poster beds kept with the theme of green and silver, a deep bottle green coated the walls, darkened enough it was not overpowering, and Theo found himself already relaxing a little as he strode towards the bed with his name inscribed at the bottom. Blaise was across the room and Harry Potter's bed lay to his left, nearest the bathroom. 

Even then, it felt almost surreal. 

“Your password will change yearly, unless requested otherwise. Whether it is changed next year or earlier in the year, the password will appear below the nameplate on the door. Only you three will be able to see it. It is currently _sollicitus_.” 

“Latin for diligent?”

Rosier gave an approving nod, and his expression settled for the first time into something a little more neutral. 

“Correct. I believe that is your first piece of advice from Professor Snape.” 

And then Harry Potter spoke. 

“If I may, is there a morning curfew too?” 

His voice was quiet, polite and carefully less warming, unless Theo was imagining things. He was steadying himself on the grounds he would have to stand, it appeared he already understood he would have to remain to some extent neutral in his words and expressions. 

Rosier caught this too, and almost looked approving, if that were possible. 

“By that you mean what Potter?”

He cleared his throat a little awkwardly before answering. 

“Are we allowed in the common room pre- breakfast? Or must we stay in our dorms until eight?” 

“You are allowed in the common room from seven am, no earlier.”

“Thank you.” Harry Potter murmured with a respectful nod and turned back to his trunk. Rosier cast him a long glance, before scanning the room for any further questions and retreating outside to let the irritated Malfoy into their room. 

The dorm fell into a natural silence, exempt from the few words Theo exchanged with Blaise, as they got ready for bed. 

* * *

  
  
_Sometime into the New Term_

Blaise was not an early riser. That was often why he was so quiet of a morning, he was still waking up. Coffee was his own personal addiction that, even at eleven, he struggled to function without. At least, if he hadn’t had at a minimum eight hours sleep. Still, it wouldn’t be a good morning if he didn’t have a cup of coffee at breakfast. 

It was nearly two weeks into the school term, when Blaise missed his cup of morning coffee. It was not a good morning, it wasn’t a good day. 

“You rely on it too much,” Draco commented, only half focused on Blaise’s plight, and more infested in buttering his toast. “Try pumpkin juice instead.”

A grimace slid across his lips, and he resisted the urge to shudder. 

“It’s too sweet.” 

They’d had this conversation more than once, Blaise would always find a reason to drink coffee, he had too, it made him alert, it made him think. It meant if his mother had a new boyfriend he would decipher quickly enough whether he would stay or go, though he had long learnt not to get attached. 

Pumpkin juice was no exception to this, at least there was truth behind his words however, he found the juice drink revolting, even its smell made him feel nauseous. Especially early in the morning. 

“There’s always apple juice?” 

Their heads seem to turn as one, as if two people joined together, and Millicent Bulstrode hid a smile into her porridge as Blaise and Draco stared at Harry Potter with matching blank looks. 

They were lucky, first years, there was always leeway when it came to expression and dealing with emotions publically, though this interaction was met with a warning glance from some of the upper years, who kept their faces readily in check. 

“Uh sorry,” Harry continued rather un-eloquently for a moment, “but there’s tea too, black tea, green tea, matcha?”

He shrugged and impeccably ignored the winces of the second years, even as Draco glanced hesitantly towards them, his lips moving to hiss a whisper of decorum as Blaise jumped in. 

“I know what apple juice is, Potter.” His low drawl was not out of anger but merely his natural voice, this silky rich natural elegance. 

“It’s less sweet than pumpkin juice, that’s all.” 

Harry gave a half smile in response, one that tailed up the edge of his lips in a light gesture, one to capture that he meant no harm by the intrusion, but not quite as warm as the night before. He understood they were not friends, hardly acquaintances.

Blaise nodded silently, choosing to forgo a spoken reply as emerald eyes peeled away back to his meal of cornflakes, and Draco frowned insistently, his lips puckered in the remnants of a pout suggesting he’d be in a bad mood until lunch. 

He intended to return back to his issue and forget his classmate had spoken, not out of spite but because he didn’t want the advice, not when he knew perfectly well what apple juice was and he doubted it would keep him awake, alert. It was mornings like this he remembered why he disliked interacting.

Draco was easy to get along with, his friend spent many a time talking about himself and Blaise was more than happy to listen, he preferred it. Often there was little he wanted to say, so disinterested because even the elite conversations they had listened into as young children having escaped the watchful eye of a nanny, where about politics and supremacist ideals and Blaise got bored quickly. 

Most of the time nobody said anything worth listening to. Most of the time people spoke, people his age, and what they say is irrelevant or ridiculous. There was no point in listening to things that would bear him no help nor benefit in later life, and that was all there was to it.   
  


Blaise was still in a bad mood by their flying lesson, he was just better at hiding it. He found Draco got too invested in his emotions , he was too emotional, to keep a mask in place for long. Whether it be taunting Weasley, or trading insults with the Granger girl he seemed to spiked a rivalry with, his mask would always slip. 

Not that it was ever really there in the first place, but for the blondes' peace of mind, Blaise said nothing. There was nothing he wanted to say. 

Except maybe to tell Vincent to stop fiddling with his robes, he could almost feel the nerves rolling from the larger boy, as they stepped out of the castle wall’s and into the soft glow of the sun. 

The long blades of grass tickled the bare skin of the ankle when their socks rolled down, and the wind passed gently through their hair. Blaise liked being outside, he liked the freedom, and the peace, and he liked to fly. 

“Welcome back to your third flying lesson of the year.”

A ray of heat from the sun struck the side of his face, and Blaise felt his anger weakening, sapping from his very bones, basking silently in the warmth. He wished now only to sink into the grass and sprawl out his limbs to cocoon in the content. 

“Today we will be going over what you learnt previously. Summon your brooms.”

Once again they repeated the drill, Blaise almost lazily calling the old school cleansweep into his hand and waited patiently. Opaque, his eyes scanned his peers, as even Vincent managed it on the first try, and Longbottom struggled to bring it to hand. 

Cheeks blotchy red from embarrassment, Longbottom and the Granger girl finally got their brooms in hand, and Draco rolled his eyes. Patience was something Blaise had in spare, it was one of the first lessons he was taught but his mother, ‘patience will gift you in itself.’ He hadn’t understood what that meant until he met Draco, and it had taken all the patience in the world to let him babble on about this and that, before the blonde decided they were best friends and suddenly Blaise had the Malfoys on his side. 

They were the people he went too when his mother got a new husband. Blaise had never had godparents, until the Malfoys. It was the second time he’d escaped to their home whilst his mother went out with a man, and they had let him stay with little questions, and when he returned two days later at his mother’s insistence, they had become his godparents. 

After a while he needed patience less and less, he came to enjoy the time he spent with Draco, he could collect his thoughts together. And his friend began to understand this wasn’t just one sided, and they fell into harmony. Blaise would come over, Draco would entertain him, he would leave. 

Sometimes he wouldn’t speak, he wouldn’t have too, Draco just seemed to know. Other times they’d fall into a pleasant silence and finally Blaise would open his lips and allow a few sentences to fly into the open air. As they got older, he spoke more, until they held fluid conversations between the content silence and Draco learnt to be patient with him. 

“Now, once again mount your brooms, and on three, hover five meters above ground.”

He did what was asked without complaint, this had been what they had learnt within the first lesson, and Longbottom had gone utterly berserk and maybe Blaise couldn’t help but find it amusing that the heir could be so terrible at flying - or walking on two feet - and yet they knew from former birthday celebrations, he could most likely escape devil's snare without a scratch. Most likely. Unless he tripped on the way out. 

Everyone managed it, as they had previously, and this time Longbottom didn’t end up hanging in the air. 

Blaise found his eyes drawn down the row, finding Potter. He’d said nothing at all during these lessons, much like himself, doing whatever was asked without complaint, though it was obvious amongst their peers many knew what they were doing. He seemed relaxed, and hadn't appeared bothered when Hooch corrected his mounting stance alongside a mutter about his fathers teaching, easily correcting it. Sometimes Blaise wished Draco didn’t take things to heart so quickly, he’d been subjected to his complaints about Hooch ever since she advised his grip. At the very least Potter accepted criticism. 

“And once again turn your brooms to the left,” 

There were some near falls at even that basic instruction. 

“Now, Patil lead the way. Slowly make your way around the edge. One lap please. And remember to keep at least two meters between your broom and the next.” 

She commanded with a warning glance to Vincent. The previous lesson they had almost made it round without a hitch, before Vincent panicked, having leaned a little too far to the left and felt his body slipping, accidently sped up, very few had managed to maneuver themself out of the pile that commenced on the ground. 

It was a slow process, Blaise was happy to sit and wait, behind an irritated Draco, who’s fingers tapped sharply on the broom, his only sign of mounting irritation. 

Potter was a few spaces up, and he too seemed a little impatient all of a sudden. It caught Blaise’s attention as he shifted on the broom, waiting for Weasley to move along, after all he’d sat quite still and pleasantly waiting last time. 

Scanning down, he realised he wasn’t the only one to notice it, Theo, a space behind Potter shifted his broom back a little, bracing himself in expectancy of the boy to go tearing off. But he didn’t. 

There was a crease downwards on his lips as he drifted round, his eyes diverting back to the place he began periodically, but he kept control. Blaise found himself accepting the rise of approval in his chest, borderline a pinch of respect, as he turned his eyes between Potter and Draco, finding the blonde's jaw jumping, and his cheeks dusted pink in frustration. 

Nothing however happened until they’d had finished the lesson. With Hooches promise of a new drill on Thursday, the day seemed to have brightened a little more with the help of the sun, and they returned to their brooms to the ground with a buzz of excitement. 

It was then that Draco spotted something in grass, bending down to pick it up Blaise caught Potters face, he too searching the grass for something, and a sinking feeling swept through his stomach. 

Draco was staring at a small glass charm in his hand, eyes confused though his lips amended his expression into something more gleeful as he walked through the grass towards the school. It was as they reached the entrance that the Gryffindor caught up, and Draco finally announced something. 

“Here Longbottom, is this yours? A lucky charm to ward off evil broomsticks?”

They were unconsciously grouped into Gryffindor and Slytherin, encircled like two halves fitting together. If Blaise had less decorum he would've groaned as Pansy did from behind him. 

“No, that’s not mine.” 

Longbottom replied softly, and Draco rose an eyebrow. They’d all seen the rememberall he’d been the other week, this made some sense, but Blaise had dread pool in his stomach that Longbottom was telling the truth.

“No need to be shy, we all know you can’t remember your socks from your shirt. Though I must admit I didn’t take you for the animal type of guy. How much did this cost? It looks rather good, is it charmed to keep you on the broom? Or able to walk three feet without falling-?”

Weasley gripped Longbottoms shoulder, and Blaise found himself very glad the irate redhead did not rise to the bait, instead stuck to glaring at Draco, as he was interrupted. 

“That’s mine.” It was Potter, almost pressed up against Draco in the small crowd that had gathered, having slipped between Theo on their other side. His voice was low and soft, almost whispering it into Draco’s ear, but in the heavy silence it was clear everyone had heard. “I’d like it back now please.”

Draco swallowed momentarily, his brain thinking rapidly of a way to play this off and coming up blank, as he passed the charm back to Potter. 

Emerald eyes looked annoyed, and almost for the first time he was frowning, giving a curt nod to them all before walking away into the castle. 

“Mr Malfoy, a word.” 

If Draco hadn’t been embarrassed before, it became obvious now as Professor Snape swooped in from the shadows of the corridor, his hand coming to rest on the nap of Draco’s neck, with a dark glare sent towards the Gryffindors, guided him out. 

From there a shuffle of awkward silence, and they parted. Blaise tried to ignore the momentarily smirk on Theo’s lips as they descended down to the dungeons. Even if he would agree, that Draco probably deserved it. 

But even so, in a strange way, his mood had improved, and he still hadn’t been able to have his coffee. He had a sneaking suspicion Professor Snape had something to do with that, as so it was with a resigned sigh that when he joined his classmates in the hall for lunch, he attempted black tea instead.

* * *

  
  
  


_Halloween_ always felt forced, in Theo’s humble opinion. 

The muggleborns got excited, but then, they got excited at anything and everything magic related too so that wasn’t a surprise. He wondered if there would come a time where they would get used to being surrounded by magic, after all there was only so many times you could stare in awe at the same candlelit ceiling. 

His sweet tooth only extended so far before the masses of sugary foods became too much and found he would rather be _apple bobbing,_ and after Grangers explanation that didn’t sound much better either. Why anyone would want to shove their head in a bucket of cold water to get an apple was beyond him. At least do it for something beneficial, like a galleon, which is small and would most likely sink. So then you’d be timing how long you can hold your breath for. You’d get money and a progress of skills. 

Muggles really didn’t think things through. 

Theo told this to her, she didn’t seem to appreciate that but then he’d come to recognise that Muggles didn’t like being told they were wrong, and she was an offspring so it was inherited. He decided not to voice that comment. 

He did however, mention this in passing in the common room later that day, whilst Prefect Farley was overseeing the decorations. 

“That’s a good point Theodore. Such a business venture and they throw it away for apples of all things.” 

Malfoy nodded approvingly, having quickly recovered from his embarrassment a few weeks prior and was back, if albeit more subtle about it, to his usual tenor. 

“Exactly,” he murmured, and tried to ignore the surprised glances flooded his way from the girls. Much like Blaise, he preferred to observe than too opinionate, at least until the Granger girl grated one too many times on his nerves. 

“It’s not about business, it’s about fun.” 

This surprisingly, came from Daphne Greengrass, her quill never ceased its loops along the parchment, having little to do with festivities through the school and preferred to stick to work she had to do. 

“Correct. Halloween is a combination of muggle traditions and Wizarding Samhain traditions. They were combined to feel inclusive within the school.”

Farley commented, though she sighed as she turned to their group, something disapproving within her features that Theo couldn’t pin point. 

“However over the years, admittedly the holiday has become increasingly muggle. Headmaster Dumbledore doesn’t seem to have a problem with this so neither do you. It is not something worth the trouble, just enjoy the evening.”

This was an order, and they found themselves shifting uncomfortable under her scrutinising stare, the subject dropping to a more light hearted debate about sweets. 

If he was being honest, Theo had almost forgotten Harry Potter was even there. It was only when he stood, brushing through the legs of their little group having accommodated the leather sofas by the fire, did something occur to him. 

Of course, Potter was Halfblood. 

He hoped he hadn’t offended him. 

Theo frowned, turning his gaze back to the table of decorations they were completing, trying to ignore the voice probing in his head - why did he care if he’d offended him? They were roommates, not friends, they exchanged words in the morning, and at breakfast, but Potter was one strange paradox. 

He couldn’t tell if the boy was quiet like himself and Blaise, or more outgoing like Malfoy and Parkinson. Sometimes he appeared both, but above all else he showed more emotion on his face than Theo wanted to see, so maybe that was why he found himself finding a seat next to Davis in lessons instead of Potter, even if he was intrigued by the boy. 

Still, he hoped Potter wasn’t offended by that either. 

“I hope I didn’t cause you any offence earlier.” 

He looked up, those emerald jewels boring into his own for a moment, their voices quiet across from him. Then his lips were quirking upwards into a pleasant smile. 

“Believe me Nott, there are many ideas muggles have that I do not agree with. Just as there are wizarding inventions or ideals that I wouldn’t wish on anyone. So no, I’m not offended.” 

Theo relaxed a little at that, and mustered up his own half smile. 

“You do know the whole world isn’t out to get you right?” 

They were encompassed in their own bubble of conversation, the beautify decorated hall amassed with hundreds of voices, all merging into one. Even the Slytherins spirits seemed uplifted from their usual calm composure, though not nearly as loud as the Hufflepuff fifth years who had invented some sort of a chant they were parroting. 

But to Theo, it was just him and Potter, emerged in their own debate, the privacy of a thousand other noises afforded them. 

“You haven’t seen how people react to Slytherins. We are labelled, we are the bad people Potter.”

“Call me Harry.” 

Theo paused, fumbling to cut a piece of pumpkin pie, he blinked at him, mouth not quite seeming to catch up with his brain,

“Uh, I mean, Potter giving your name is a symbol of loyalty-“

“Always best to start somewhere right? Call me Harry.” 

And then suddenly Harry Potter was not Potter, he was Harry, and this threw Theo off. It was more the fact he was okay giving his own name back, permission to use his name, when in the last six years he’d known Draco, he’d never given the boy permission to use his name - he just did. 

“Ah right, um I guess you can call me Theo.” 

It was awkward and easier all at once, and Theo could hardly remember where this conversation started. 

“My dad has never been a fan of Slytherins.” 

Harry said after a moment, and Theo glanced up towards the staff table, finding James Potter. That singular tidbit of information marked something on Lord Potter that Theo would never be able to erase entirely from his perception now, and sudden shadow of dislike. 

“He’s alright with you though, isn’t he?” He demanded quietly, remembering the man had been the first to clap at his sorting and the last to stop. 

An even softer expression overtook Harry’s face, as his eyes followed the direction finding his father, and Theo found himself looking away, as if intruding on a private moment just for Harry himself. 

“Yeah,” absent and soft, as if he too could no longer hold substance to what they were talking about. “Yeah, I think I can change his view on all of us, if he can already accept me.” 

Emerald eyes tore away and came fluttering back to Theo. 

“It’s not that he hates all Slytherins, but he was part of a war, it was a Slytherin who tried to kill him, and mum, and I think he struggles to forget that sometimes. But then, it wasn’t just the slytherins was it.” 

Harry frowned for a moment, before his face was lighting up and he was reaching for a slice of treacle tart. Theo had no idea who he was talking about, but he was glad at least, Harry wasn’t strictly light. 

“Still , they love me.” He shrugged , ignoring the side glances and maybe Theo was a tiny bit jealous of how easy it was , the way the words slipped from his tongue and something airy sliding from his shoulders. So little substance with so much weight, Theo _could_ _not_ doubt Harry was loved.   
  
  


Maybe someday Theo would get him to understand why people like his father become who they are, why he would one day have to follow those footsteps. And maybe, just maybe, Harry would come with him. 

  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter goes more in-depth about Theo and Blaise , as I will with other characters when I do another like this , this is to show the growth of dynamics between them all. 
> 
> I won’t normally post twice in a day , I simply had this already written and thought it might be a nice opening to his character.


	3. In the days that followed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a much shorter one , a scenario I had to get down. I haven’t quite yet decided whether Marlene and Dorcas will be alive , or whether they will be incorporated in other ways. Alice and Frank’s fate have not changed , which is something I want to add to Nevilles character - his utter determination to find them a cure. 
> 
> Hopefully my next one will be happier. I’m leaning towards Harry and Ron’s friendship.

Plot: they learn to cope with life

_we almost fell (six feet underground)_   
  


It was still dark when her eyes flew open , back half lifting from the soft springs of the mattress and the thick sheets spread along the bed became too suffocating. It was still dark outside , barely the break of morning to peek through , and frozen in silence.

Her eyelids were stiff with sleep , for that seemed to be all they had done in the last days, their relief dwindling from the moment of euphoria where she clutched him in the white walls of the hospital , his beating heart pressed to her ear , the steady rise and fall of his chest , Lily had only had a single other moment in her life where she felt more relieved than then. When her son was in her arms too , the innocence of his face with soft puckered lips that made little sound but moved as if to tell her all the secrets of the world and it was all she could do not crush him , crush him in the hold of her arms and never left go.

Silence , something that had been precious mere days before , that had joined the ever strand of coping mechanisms when stuck , so inevitably stuck , hiding and not fighting, hiding. They were confined to their home in godric's hollow and there were days where the walls stifled the air thick with a cotton thread that strung their hope in a mess of lines until they couldn't quite find the end. But the silence they were afforded had come with peace , for they could rest with their bodies side by side and enjoy the tender moments by the fire, where they said nothing at all but they needed to be held , they needed that silence to know they were safe.

The birds were not yet up to sing their song , left to the eerie chimes of the witching hour and an empty space beside her where the bed was loosing warmth , and a streak of light dancing along the wall from the door that was ajar. It strained at her eyes as he brain fought to catch up , limbs stiff with the ache of the prolonged stunner , for they had been frozen in place for minutes she could not count , but that was worth it. All of this was worth it , to know her family were alive.

This was a new silence now , one that frosted the grass with dew before the rain had chance to fall and shivered against patches of skin left open to the vulnerable cold , so different. Because she was awake , and no sound stirred , and her heart lurched to her throat with an incessant beating , she could not hear.

She could not hear them.

They were quiet , they were quiet and a small part of her brain reminded her that it was the early hours of the morning and they were meant to be quiet , to be asleep. And yet her husband was not beside her , his forever cold feet pressing into her legs, the tickle of the stubble growing on his face to brush against the back of her neck , he was not there.

It was irrational panic , but then not really , as she swung herself from the warmth of the covers and fumbled with her slippers. A cruel thought chewing at the back of her mind as her hands found the soft silk of her dressing gown , that in the dark and silence of what she would find - nothing at all.

The hall was lit with light and that soothed the stirring of frazzled fire, combing a tired hand through her the knots of her hair , her feet searching. A twinge of pain ran down her neck, reduced from the pulsing that plagued the back of her head , a thin scar hidden behind the thick curtain of red.

Her fingers found the door handle , her breath catching , and maybe she hated herself a little for hesitating. There were still cracks in the wall, the handle loose in its hold and she pushed it open but her feet would not move.

Lily was looking for her child , but instead found her eyes swimming to the spot where she had been stood , a lump rising in her throat alongside an ugly thought ; would she have the strength to do it again? She would , she could , but a pinch of doubt and a thousand scenarios and what if she had stood aside.

A hand fluttered up to her lips, pressing them tight to withhold the exhausted cry trappedin her throat , and then the wispy figures that plagued her dreams were lost from sight and no patch of carpet would blindside her from what she had to see , what she needed to know.

And her fingers found the cot , fixed - she didn't know when , she didn't know who , maybe she didn't want to know ? - the polished wood crafted beneath her fingers. James had put it together himself , whilst Sirius and Remus argued over the instructions , because her husband demanded to do it the 'proper' way and Peter .. _Peter_.

She'd never seen him more motivated to help before , a gentle thought had her wondering if she'd been looking hard enough , but between the four of them , little Harry's nursery ' I recommend his name to be Sirius Junior !' , ' Poor child ' had the baby blue walls painted and his furniture standing with weeks to spare.

She couldn't bring herself to hate the room , even after everything else. She couldn't , not when her little boy was the beacon of light that rolled out something warm across the room, something that outweighed everything that happened , even if she struggled to take the first step.

He was there , half curled beneath baby sized blanket with a hand clutching absently at the stuffed lion and a soft blush of red to his cheeks.

Lily felt herself smile tenderly , though her eyes suspiciously bright and wet as her hand moved down to stroke the soft silk of his hair , and find the rise of his chest to dampen any cause of worry , she knew how lucky they had been.

"Mumma loves you Harry ," she whispered , the echo of her same words on that night , but this time her baby would wake up in the morning and she would be around to see the wash of his big jewel eyes and the soft scrunch of his nose. "So so much."

Now she was sure he child was there , breathing , safe , though they could never be sure and would never be sure as their trust seemed shattered at their feet and they did not have the strength to pick it up again. But as long as she lived , she would do everything in her power to make sure no man , no women , no monster harmed her child.

A stir from downstairs , and she flinched unconsciously, her wand left on her bedside table with a hundred thoughts that followed in quick succession and maybe she moved to place herself between the door and her boy.

But Lily didn't , even as she cursed herself for leaving it behind , leaving them with misfortune to another's hand and what could have protected them from the shadow that crept up the stairs. There wasn't one , and she tried to remember that , the only shadow now was her own.

Another noise , a stumbling of shuffling feet and the sound of paper ruffled and she lingered for a moment longer to capture every piece of Harry in her mind , before moving away to the landing.

She left the door ajar. Not sure to what extent that would do anything , should a Death Eater attempt to take revenge for their masters death , but still it have some small comfort, forcing herself not to cuddle him to her chest at every possible chance.

The stairs creaked in all the right places, the familiar spots she knew to step like clockwork, expect the last one. As the floor of the hall drew nearer , a dent still left in its wood , and she worked past the catch of breath in her throat.

Nobody looked at it. Not Sirius , not Remus , not her.

Nobody except for James could stand to glance at it, to touch it even, a stark reminder and a ghostly echo left in her mind , forever ingrained in her nightmares the sound of his body falling limp like a rag doll against the floor.

A heavy thump , and his footsteps , a heavy thump , and Harry had cried a little harder , a heavy thump , and it wasn't meant to be like that.

He was there, as she stepped over the bottom step and the floorboards croaked their groan through the air , the soft light of the dining room peered her way, a single lamp switched on and his figure slumped in a chair, his figure very much alive. 

Lily released a breath she didn't know she was holding , and started towards him. Their small home hadn't seemed so small; not a month ago when Harry was flying his broom , not a year ago when he was gurgling from her arms for the first time , not before then when their bodies were crammed to the sofa and swinging bottles of butterbeer.

Not when Mary and Alice and Frank were alive to hold him too.

Not when Dumbledore spoke of the prophecy and there was no more butterbeer, no more friends , no more freedom.

But the walls loomed in a way they had not before , with the shadows and creaks , their home haunted by memories.

"James."

He looked up slowly from where his gaze rested on the article in his hands , as if peeling then away from the most important document ever to exist and in a way, for him, she knew it was. 

Lily didn't need to see the heading printed in thick black ink to know what it said. It's what they all said.   
  


POTTERS ALIVE BY SOME MIRACLE , FAMILY BETRAYED BY PETER PETTIGREW !

They hadn't believed it, James hadn't believed it, not at first , not until he confessed in the confines of Dumbledore's office and she wondered if they'd ever learn why.

"Sorry," he murmured, voice thick with sleep but so gratingly awake, and face lined with bags of stress pitched beneath his eyes. "Sorry I .. I couldn't sleep."

"I know." She replied softly , her hands finding their way to his shoulders , fingers pressing into the old t-shirt he'd thrown on to feel the heat beneath his skin.

"I don't get it." He sighed tiredly, a hand scrubbed down his face, staring with an almost unreadable expression at the paper in the lamp light.

Almost , almost unreadable. But she could see it , the pain that clung to the flicker of his eyelashes and the sadness in the bob of his Adam's apple. Hazel flecks left bloodshot, by a sleepless night or by tears,she would guess both.

Lily waited silently, rubbing gently at his shoulders , reassuring herself more than him that he were indeed there , indeed alive. 

"He wasn't tortured , he wasn't hurt , he wasn't anything except _sorry_ -"

His throat cut off and his lips pressed in a firm line , and Lily let out a soft exhale, pressing a kiss to his head, dark hair smooth against her face.

"That has to count for something though , that he was at the very least , sorry."

She whispered not sure why she was even attempting to defend him, the man who almost got them killed, almost got their baby killed.

James shook his head slowly. 

"It's more than that though," he croaked , a hand pinching the bridge of his nose tiredly , his mind working in overdrive. She could almost hear the heavy clogs turning in his brain, jammed at one end , so confused. 

"There has to be more to it than just being scared - hell I was scared, I was terrified !"

His voice was rising , breaking the quaint sounds beginning to emerge from the outside world and the gentle quiet of the house.

"James," Lily murmured , her eyes prickling as he half rose out of his seat , wide eyes finding hers , glazed with something so irreversibly haunted. The same look she saw in the mirror.

"I was so fucking terrified , _you_ were so terrified , why does being scared make it okay ?? I had to face Voldemort head on-!"

His voice cracked and fell , dripping off with only sadness following in its wake. The climbing sensation of hysteria dissipated , and he slumped forwards breathing heavily , pressing his face into his hands once more.

"I just," he took a shaking breath as she slid down beside him , the hard chair cold beneath her legs.

"I just keep thinking about it."

And Lily knew where he was going as his hazel eyes turned to her glistening , what he would say , his train of thought no different from her own.

"About what might've happened if-"

"If the curse hadn't of rebounded." Lily finished softly for him , her hand shaking as it pressed against his cheek, gently guiding his face back towards her as he twisted away with the drip of a tear.

"James look at me," and he did , without question or cause , and maybe for all of this she loved him a little bit more.

"I know, I do it too. And if I can't hear him at night I .."

"Panic." He muttered , and his own hand enclosed her other that lay on the table as their heads drew closer together.

"But we are here, we are alive and Voldemort didn't get us." She repeated the words she had said to herself everyday since the event , only now gentle and firm in the air did she start to believe herself.

"Voldermort didn't get us"

James breathed to himself , eyes finding the paper once more as another tear escaped from his eye. Their heads pressed together , her forehead against the side of his and his hand travelling up to stroke her hair , the deep red he had adored and would always adore.

"Everything else can wait," he whispered into the silence.

And it would , they had days to be remember how to live. For now , they just had to love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the first one shot , and for this one, there was a focus on Peter. Because I’ve read a lot of fics where they wake up and their first thoughts are that Peter betrayed them. Now, obviously he did , but I don’t think that’s fair , not on Peter nor on their friendship. I imagine for James would take a much more ‘denial’ style approach, or as I put in first one , believe Peter to have been tortured or hurt to have given up their position , and not actually betrayed them willingly.  
> Because Peter was very much a close friend, as close and Remus and Sirius , he was their equal and an important member of the marauders and I wanted to show that. 
> 
> Apologies if there are any mistakes ! Feel free to tell me , and let me know your thoughts so far.


End file.
